


The Hour - "Years&Years" - Randall/Freddie

by Samstown4077



Series: Randall Brown - Head of News [12]
Category: The Hour (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe where Randall is very naughty, And between all the lines there is just hurt and angst and drama, Collection of Naughtiness, Freddie finally gets it, Freddie is sub, M/M, Porn With Plot, Randall is a fox, Randall shags everyone in the office basically, Smut, affair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22758094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samstown4077/pseuds/Samstown4077
Summary: "Fixed what is Broken"-Series, Part 3, Since Paris Randall can't get his mind off Freddie Lyon.He would never dare speak it out loud. Yet, the busy boy Freddie seems to catch up on it quickly when waiting for him one late night.
Relationships: Randall Brown/Freddie Lyon
Series: Randall Brown - Head of News [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/810540
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	The Hour - "Years&Years" - Randall/Freddie

**Author's Note:**

> Part THREE of "Fixed what is broken" series about Randall shagging basically his whole staff. What sounds very naughty, and it is but it is also full of angst and emotions.  
> -  
> What can one sentence do to a writer? "I ship Randall like with everyone..." and this was all my mind needed, and I wrote a 4-part series of Randall giving in to his wants and needs shagging his main-staff. Don't be mistaken, this is smut, but also emotions, drama and heartbreak.

The first time Randall’s eyes had lingered way too long on young Freddie had been in Paris. They had known for a while. Randall had recruited him because Frederick Lyon was a hell of a good journalist, someone he needed in his team. 

One late evening Freddie had broken out in a long enthusiastic and passionate talk about de Gaulle’s politics in the war. About his prediction, he would soon become France’s new president. 

Randall had listened because Freddie was smart, and he enjoyed his point of view. Also, after a while, his attention had drifted to the way the young man let his hands flourish round the air. Wiping a strand of his black hair, out of his forehead again and again — unsuccessful. 

At some point, Randall had risen from his chair. He had walked up to him — Freddie only taking it as encouragement in his speech — getting a closer look, getting a tighter feeling. He had needed to bury his hands in his pockets, making fists. A precaution, because if not Randall would have reached out taking care of that damn strand of hair himself. Instead, he let his eyes roam over Freddie’s face, taking in his youth, marvelling about his attentive green eyes that always caught on a good story. But not on Randall’s attention and interest that wasn’t about politics and news at all at that moment. 

Randall wouldn’t allow himself to act on a whim, especially not in that area of his life, it only would lead to disaster. Something he was quite good with and so it was his intention to avoid it when possible. 

He knew himself well enough. People had problems figuring him out, what he didn’t see as a disadvantage. That’s why he could keep his interest at Freddy beyond the work-related topics without anyone catching up. Not even Freddie.

Moving to London, taking Freddie with him — luring him with the prospect of a new job, hadn’t cost Randall a lot of time to figure out the network of emotions and relationships that circled on the floors of The Hour. Bel Rowley and Hector Madden. Freddie Lyon and Lix Storm. For Randall, it was as if he could see the strings attached to them, but he could blame none for it. Himself was holding to a string, connecting him with the others. 

He had kept throwing glances at Freddie, sometimes even searching physical contact, wondering if he ever would realise what his Head of News was up to. It didn’t get easier for Randall, holding back, but he was used to suppressing certain feelings. He was sure at some point he would be rewarded. 

Curiously enough that point came sooner as Randall had expected. Having left the office, after a rather calm day, he had driven back home, eager to get a bit of distraction from the telly and maybe a good book later. 

When climbing the stairs to his apartment, he stopped abruptly at the last couple of stairs. To his own surprise, he found Freddie Lyon sitting there, smoking a cigarette. His back resting against the wall, his legs crossed over each other. He began to hum softly when seeing Randall. 

“Mister Lyon,” Randall raised an eyebrow unsure what to expect. In hindsight, Freddie had spent quite a while in his office today. Not talking, more lingering and Randall, who had been busy with a few papers from the higher floors had — for once — had not paid much attention to Freddie’s behaviour. 

Freddie dragged once more from the cigarette, only to stub it on the floor, raising then, “Randall.” 

He brushed over the wrinkles in his shirt, giving him a smirk. His eyes sparkling with mischief before stepping aside to provide Randall with the chance to lead the way.

Pondering for a second, Randall quickly caught on, licking over his lips, passing him then. By the door, Freddie leaned casually against the frame, watching Randall get out his keys, opening the door. When the door swung open, he gestured to Freddie to enter.

Like the curious cat Freddie was, he entered the apartment and the living room, one hand switching on a light. The other feeling out the expensive leather sofa facing the corner in the place, where the telly stood. The room was neat and spacey. Cleaned up. Pictures of landscapes on the wall, a long shelf with books, including a corner with an armchair, where he guessed, Randall spent his evenings reading. 

Randall placed his bag and keys on the sideboard and watched Freddie looking around. For a brief second, he considered, asking him if there had been an emergency in the office or something, but they both knew this wasn’t about work. So, he spared them the awkward conversation. He took off his jacket and hung it up.

“Scotland?” Freddie pointed at one of the landscape pictures held in black and white.

Looking up, Randall walked over, “Yes. Taken ten or something years ago. I forgot.”

Freddie turned surprised, “You took it?” suddenly there was a new appreciation shimmering in his glances.

It amused Randall to a certain extent, so he gave him a thin smirk, “Yes.” The best tricks he had learned from Lix, but he kept that to himself. 

A moment of silence arose, and Randall didn’t know how to approach the topic when Freddie took that lead from him.

“Anyway,” with a bit of hesitation, Freddie began to unbutton his vest, shoving it down without looking at Randall, only to continue with the buttons of his shirt. 

Randall had to take in a quick sip of air, before reaching to his top button, hiding under his tie, loosening it, “Freddie…”

The uncertainty in Randall’s voice gave Freddie the courage to look up, the shirt now open, showing his skin, “I assume, you thought I’ll never notice. But I did. Your glances. The way you sometimes enter my personal space. I admit; I wasn’t sure for a while.”

He’d come, so there was no need to ask if Freddie was content with what might follow, or even would disagree. 

Randall stepped closer, his eyes roaming over the still covered chest then to his face. If Freddie was aware of this being a dangerous game to play? Not that he was that careless but he probably had decided it didn’t help at all to worry about everything. And Randall had to agree. 

Both hands in his pockets, he finally gave in, taking one out to reach out to Freddie’s forehead. His fingertips gently brushing against the skin, under the hair to tug it away. 

The contact made Freddie’s breath tumble for a moment. Then he turned, and Randall could only guess why. His hand still hovering in the air, he reaches for the shoulder, joined by his other. Carefully he began to shove down the fabric cotton, revealing Freddie’s bare back. He was thin, too thin. The boy never took any time for a proper meal. There were days, Randall was sure Freddie lived off cigarettes, coffee and breadcrumbs. 

There was only an inch between Freddie and Randall now, and Randall couldn’t help but touch him by the one stand out bone of his neck. Letting his fingers wander over the neck into the hair on the back of his head. His little finger caressing Freddie’s right ear. 

Intentional or not, Freddie’s head dropped slightly forward, giving Randall more room to explore, followed by a soft hum. 

His heartbeat was pacing, and Randall could feel a warm feeling spread around in his body. Soon he would be so aroused it would be uncomfortable. For now, he simply enjoyed having Freddie here, having the opportunity to explore that English pale as paper skin that radiated with warmth. His other hand drawing a line down the spine, slowly, so his fingertips could map out every bone, every muscle. 

The way Freddie hummed gently, seemingly enjoying the touch, encouraged Randall to lean a bit in, lowering his mouth down to his left shoulder. The soft kiss let Freddie shudder. A soft gasp escaping him. 

One hand was by his hip, holding against the hipbone, holding him in place, while his tongue tasted a hint of salt, and his teeth scraped over the warm skin. A gentle startle went through Freddie, and Randall could feel him shake in anticipation.

Reading him, Randall’s held still for a moment, asking a little uncertain; “Have you done this before?” 

“Sort of,” Freddie answered slightly cocky, and Randall raised an eyebrow over the answer. Freddie knew, besides looking at the framed picture across from him. He felt Randall’s lips hesitate for a moment, his left resting on his hip. “Don’t worry.” 

An amused huff escaped Randall. Not to worry was sometimes the hardest. 

Another shudder and Randall guessed it was more a shiver, being cold. When he is not home, he never heats the living room, but the bedroom. 

As if he could read Randall’s thoughts, Freddie stepped forward, only giving him a look over his shoulders, and anticipated by Randall’s chin raise where the bedroom was. 

Without hesitation or much ado, Freddie, standing at the edge of the bed, opened the button of his trousers and took it off including his underwear in one go. 

The briskness and sight of naked Freddie Lyon gave Randall’s heart a short moment of confusion and let his cheeks turn red. He was indeed so thin, Randall has to be aware not to break him when… 

When having found composure again, Randall let his eyes travel from his chest down to his belly, to his middle. Black hair curling around his still soft prick. 

Randall was very aware that his ears must be dark red, but he didn’t care. The only thing he cared about was getting this further as just looking. Closing the gap then, one hand on Freddie’s shoulder, the other on his stomach, his eyes never leaving Freddie’s while his hand travelled the thin line of hair that set the path. 

Gently his hand and fingers came around Freddie, and the young man gasped with an open mouth, his eyes about to flutter shut. 

“Don’t,” Randall brought him back, his mouth slightly open too. His hand stroking now, languid, very precisely. It’s been a while, but this was like so many other things. You don’t forget how to do it. 

The way Freddie’s chest was heaving up and down, and the soft flesh becoming hard with every stroke told Randall, he hasn’t forgotten much. Freddie’s pupils were blown, and he needed to bite his lower lip to keep his eyes open. A gesture Randall enjoyed immensely, feeling his own arousal begin to press against the inside of his trousers.

Freddie was fully hard then, and Randall could feel the pre-cum in the palm of his hand. While he was still wondering what it would taste like, he found Freddie’s hand around his stopping him. 

“Let me,” he breathed and reached out for Randall’s tie. Obviously, Freddie wanted Randall out of his clothes, and he couldn’t actually disapprove. So he let the young take the control for a moment, taking off his tie and unbuttoning the buttons of his vest and shirt. 

It happened in silence, no questions asked. Only Randall reached out to that one strand of hair once again, and when Freddie tried to shake his touch off — because it was so distracting — they both needed to give it a laugh. 

“I need a haircut.” Freddie finished with Randall’s shirt and went for the braces to tug them over his shoulders.

“No, you don’t,” was Randall’s hoarse answer, before he made Freddie turn again in his arms.

Shoving him toward the bed, Freddie got the meaning and leaned forward, his knees on top of the bed now, his hands balancing himself out. 

Randall was now quick to get his trousers down and away, all under Freddie’s curious looks, commenting it with a chuckle. Looking down at Freddie’s backside made his erection twitch in arousal and anticipation, so he closed the gap between them quickly. One hand gliding over one of his buttocks, squeezing it while the other hand came around his hip, finding his cock again. It was a slow, sweet rhythm he gave Freddie, pressing his middle against him while doing so. Going with the motion of his hand, without any intention to go further yet. 

Panting under the attention of his Head of News, Freddie leaned into the touch, eager for more and Randall began to massage his backhole, by rubbing over the entrance several times. When he had the impression Freddy was ready, he entered at first with one and then two fingers. Freddie’s back arched slightly, and Randall gave him the time he needed before entering then fully. Bowing over, till his mouth could reach the spot between his shoulders, he placed his tongue there. A growl in fervour given. 

After many gasps and hums, little teasings and nips against Freddie’s skin, Randall stopped their foreplay. He let his hand caress slowly from Freddie’s middle over his back to his shoulder blades. 

“Wait,” he hummed, walking to the drawer beside his bed, getting out some lube. It was unused, but there was one thing Randall hated to be in his life. Being unprepared. 

Opening it, he stepped behind Freddie again, who had laid down for a moment, catching his breath — never leaving Randall out of sight. 

Freddie’s hair was already tousled, and the thought of tugging at him when reaching his climax sent an excited shiver through Randall. 

Spilling the lube into his palm, it was almost too much, but it was too late for Randall to waste any thought about this getting messy or not. Looking down at Freddie, he took himself in hand, spreading the lubricate over his erection. Not without teasing himself while observing Freddie who seemed very content in his position. 

God, the boy was beautiful, he thought, and reached for his hip, calling him back into position. With a soft groan, Freddie raised his backside, his head resting on a pillow he had grabbed. By now Randall was sure, this wasn’t his first time. 

It was slow, caring. Randall had no intention to either hurt him or rush this. Holding him in position with one hand, he gave just enough pressure to begin sinking into him. This, as all good things, needed time and patience. It would only reward them both.

A soft, almost breathless gasp given, Randall stopped, letting his hands pet Freddie’s hips and sacrum. Giving him the time to adjust. 

It was Freddie then, pushing slowly backwards and Randall let him take over. His hands rubbing up and down Freddie’s buttocks, he watched his cock slowly dive into Freddie’s arse. The warm, lush feeling only got intensified watching their union happen. 

Half in, Randall let his hand slide upwards Freddie’s spine, stopping his motion, before backing out a little bit. They both groaned in pleasure. Only for Randall to push back in, a little firmer as before, but only enough to sink a little deeper as before. It made Freddie cry out in pleasure and pain. 

Randall repeated the motion, gripping Freddie’s skin hard and tight this time, sinking all the way in.

“Fuck,” Freddie bit into the pillow, arching his back only to add, “that feels so good.” 

Randall chuckled and gasped at the same time, doing it once more before slowly easing into a leisure rhythm. A tight but warm feeling growing in his belly with every movement, slowly climbing to its peak. Freddie moaning under him, not spending one single thought about it was his Head of News and that his wife was waiting for him at home. Such indecency, such sweet little whimpers — Randall couldn’t get enough of it. 

Soon, they both sensed this was coming to an end, and Randall bowed down, bringing his right hand around Freddie’s chest pressing against him. His mouth by his ear, the other hand supporting him, he whispered, “Just this once, you do know that Freddie, don’t you?” He licked him behind his ear, pushing hard inside of him. 

As to answer, Freddie groaned out loud, humming. 

Then, with a swift motion, Randall disconnected grabbed the younger’s hip and flipped him over. Freddie couldn’t help but giggle. Only someone so young could snicker like that while getting shagged. 

“Make it worth then,” he brushed his hair out of his forehead, taking his cock in hand as if he wanted to lure Randall closer. 

Randall didn’t need such bait and lunged forward. Chest against chest, salty sweat and heated odour mixing up between them. For a second Randall got lost in the green eyes of his colleague. 

Unsure what Randall was thinking, Freddie, reached out touching his cheek with his thumb, brushing over Randall’s lips. For his age, the Head of News looked way too attractive in his opinion. Even hiding behind a thick frame of specs and a tamed outer appearance didn’t soften the impression. 

“Stupid boy,” Randall then smirked at him, leaning down to capture Freddie’s lips in a passionate kiss. He had fantasies about him. This. And this was very close to some particular idea he once had. 

Moving his hip just right, Randall pushed into him again. This time, he wouldn’t stop anymore, letting his passion take over and bring them both to oblivion. His lips plastering Freddie’s throat, one hand rooting through his hair, tugging at it. 

And Freddie let him do as he pleased, moaned and gasped under every thrust, his hands capturing Randall’s buttocks. It felt amazing. 

“Touch yourself,” Randall then murmured, “get yourself off.” 

Doing as been told, Randall looked down, watching Freddie pump his cock. Quickly their rhythm matched, and they both were only seconds away.

The grip in his belly had built so much, and suddenly from one moment to the next, it toppled him over. Bursting, and sending warmth and cold through him. He was coming. Biting into Freddie’s shoulder for a brief second, he came long and hard, groaning. Freddie followed quickly, spending himself on his belly, arching his back and digging his hand deep into Randall’s hip. 

Halting his motions, Randall buried his face in the crook of Freddie’s neck. His lips gently brushing over the salted skin. His breath remained ragged. 

“I’ve made a mess,” Freddie announced then, touching Randall by his temple, trying to bring back a bit of control into his black and grey curls. 

Randall propped himself up on his forearms, genuinely amused about his one-time lover. Glancing down, they both were covered in Freddie’s seed. He grasped why Freddie had said it. Carefully turning, Randall let himself down beside Freddie, “don’t worry.” He’d change the covers, get them washed. Get a shower later himself. 

“So, just this one time?” Freddie asked after a minute, turning his head looking at Randall, who had taken off his glasses, to cover his face with his arm. 

“Just this once,” he answered, without moving. Maybe he was getting a little old for such exercise. 

“Why?”

Randall raised his arm and rolled onto his side, placing his head onto one arm. The other hand, brushed through Freddie’s hair, admiring the tousled black mess one last time with a genuine contact. 

“We live in dangerous times, Freddie, regarding this,” he took a long breath in, “and I simply have my principles. It’s sweet and good as it is. It would be too complicated.”

That sounded plausible to Freddie, who had no interest in developing a problematic affair with Randall while being married while being actually in love with Bel Rowley at the same time. 

“Go, get a shower, Mister Lyon,” Randall put his glasses back on and gave Freddie a gentle nug. 

Not keen on moving, but knowing it was necessary, and that he couldn’t stay the night, Freddie raised and toddled off into the direction of the bathroom. 

Randall found himself a towel and cleaned himself. As soon as Freddie would have left, he’ll take a bath, spending the evening letting the fresh impressions of their indulgence replay in his mind. Till then, he threw over a shirt and some slacks before putting on the kettle in the kitchen. 

After twenty minutes, Freddie appeared in the doorframe, looking fresh again. His hair combed back, the shirt buttoned up, the vest casually open and his jacket thrown over his shoulder. Randall was sure that in some regions of London he wouldn’t be safe for five minutes.

“Tea?” Randall pointed at a second cup he had placed onto the table.

Freddie shook his head, “I think, I should go. It’s late. Camille is waiting, well… probably asleep, but…”

Clearing his throat, Randall walked up to Freddie, “Listen, it’s none of my business, but take a bit of advice anyway; you and Camille — “

“— We don’t fit. I know,” Freddie gave him a sad expression. “She wants a divorce anyway, that’s the only reason she came back from Paris.”

Randall nodded in appreciation. “Get that done,” it pleased him that Freddie was at least that talented in his relationship by now. “And then…,” Freddie rose an eyebrow in curiosity, “you better ask Miss Rowley out for dinner.”

Overrun for a second, Freddie blushed about the suggestion, “and … and if I don’t?”

As an answer, Randall titled his head, “she’ll find someone else. And you’ll regret it. I am old, not blind, Mister Lyon.”

Freddie smiled, “yes. Good night, Randall. See you in the office.”

“Freddie.” Randall watched Freddie walk down the stairs before closing the door with a smoulder on his lips. 

When he had taken a shower, he realised how late it was and how little tired he was considering the time. Which was perhaps down to the fact he just had shagged young Freddie Lyon, considering it a good time. Also, there was the fact he was thinking about all the people he was responsible for in his office. They all were more or less in his life and important. 

The idealistic Freddie, always haunted by the idea of a perfect story, willing to subordinate everything else to it. 

Or sweet Bel, struggling to find her place in the men dominated world, about to sacrifice love for a career. 

Then Hector, the smooth plain group captain trying to live up to his heritage he despised so much, ending up to believe he wasn’t worthy for his wife or his job.

And then there was Lix, broken by their past. The only woman he would give up everything for. The one woman he had ever hoped to make happy, but never could have. 

Randall fell asleep long after midnight with one thought in his mind. That there was so much that needed to be fixed. Maybe too much.

  
  
  
  



End file.
